Bliss to Be Alive: Real Lies at Village Underground

All photos by Jake Lewis.

“And tonight we are the world-famous Real Lies…” The words ring out like prophecy and payoff in equal measure. Inside the brick-lined walls of Village Underground, a once-forgotten warehouse in Shoreditch, the scene is set for a kind of homecoming — spiritual, sonic, and deeply personal.

A 600-strong crowd packs the room, adorned with roses and hearts full of anticipation. Above them, two flags read “Bliss To Be Alive,” a sentiment that feels less like stage dressing and more like manifesto. Beneath those flags, Real Lies take the stage like men who’ve weathered the London grind of bedroom studios, broken deals, and lost time, and emerged not just intact, but emboldened.

There’s a cinematic quality to it all. Dancers move in sync, waving the Forza RL flag with reverence. It’s a knowing nod to the dancefloors where Real Lies first found their voice—equal parts euphoria and melancholy. The crowd isn’t just watching; they’re part of it, a collective memory in motion.

Set highlights include “Purple Hearts” and “North Circular,” the latter casting a spell with its stark, rain-soaked poetry: “Locked out like a dog in the rain / Bag on my shoulder and a pocket full of change.” It captures that Real Lies magic: urban drift rendered cinematic, spoken-word memories set against a synth-streaked skyline. Both tracks pulse with their signature alchemy- euphoric yet elegiac, as if the night itself had something to confess. But it’s “I Could Join The Birds” that hits hardest, with Kevin Lee Kharas introducing it simply: “This one means a lot to me.” You can feel it in the delivery.

Midway through, the band pause to announce Arsenal’s 2-1 win at the Bernabéu. The room erupts. It’s not just a football score—it’s a symbol of improbable victory, the underdog punching up, a theme that fits Real Lies like a glove.

There’s time, too, for a shout-out to Tom Watson, one of the original three. It’s brief, heartfelt, and another quiet testament to how deeply Real Lies value memory, even when it's laced with absence. The Real Lies frontman says, “Without him, none of this would have happened, we wouldn’t be here today.” You could hear a pin drop, which is almost instantly reversed with the frontman saying, “Don’t worry he’s not dead,” met with rapturous laughs.

They play several new tracks from We Will Annihilate Our Enemies, each met with the kind of response usually reserved for long-time favourites. The album reads like a love letter to modern chaos—scroll addiction, climate dread, dopamine crashes, broken dreams. But none of that feels heavy tonight. Tonight, they’re not just performing it, they’re reshaping it into something vital, alive, and unfolding in real time.

The album marks a new chapter for Real Lies, whose misfortunes have paradoxically helped cement their status as one of the UK’s most enduring cult electronic acts. A six-figure record deal vetoed at the last minute plunged them into years of existential inertia. A world tour with the Pet Shop Boys that never happened—because their dancers needed too much time to get changed between songs. A global pandemic that struck just as their second album was set to launch.

But 13 years into their existence, Real Lies have a feeling their luck is about to change. And at Village Underground, it feels like they’re right. Because what made the show so special wasn’t just the atmosphere or the setlist—it was watching a dream unfold, finally, under lights they’ve earned the hard way.